Eating And Sleeping
by TaylxBayl
Summary: There are two things that I, Roger Davis, value in life. They are eating and sleeping. What happens when I am deprived of those? Oneshot. Better than it sounds. T for Roger's pottymouth Review it!


**A/N: Yes, this is a little one shot I wrote out of sheer boredom. I hope you all enjoy it. I thought it was entertaining.**

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I, Roger Davis, value two very important things in life. They are eating and sleeping. If I am not partaking in the one, I am almost always doing the other. It's just how I have always been. You can look back on any day of my life thus far and see it for yourself: I am one lazy, gluttonous creature. There's no doubt about it. Mimi and Mark are reminding me of that frequently.

If you look at my gorgeous body (and, who doesn't stare at it constantly?), you will not find one ounce of fat, despite I eat triple my weight daily and I am too lazy to move my (very small, very attractive) ass off of the couch to go running or whatever it those souls who aren't blessed with a speedy metabolism do. Exercise bores me, unless you can count sex. I read somewhere that sex can burn over three hundred calories an hour. Maybe that is why I am in good shape. Let's just say, Mimi and I have a very…_fulfilling _sex life.

Onto the other thing I love most – sleeping. A normal person sleeps what, eight hours a night? That is completely ridiculous. Who can function normally with only eight hours of sleep? For starters, I sure can't. I need approximately fourteen hours asleep. Anything less, it would be like trying to converse with a sock– useless and disappointing. You would be lucky to get an affirmative nod and, if my mouth decided to work, I would pretty much say yes to anything. It comes in handy when Mimi is asking for birthday presents.

_Why are you telling me this?_, you might be thinking. What is so important about Roger's odd eating and sleeping habits? Well, I have decided to tell you about one of the worse days ever. Really, it was. It was so horrible, I almost cried. The fact I tear up easily is beside the point. So, without any further delay, this is the story of one of the worst days ever.

I was all comfy and cozy in my bed. Since I spend half of my time sleeping, the bed in my small, dingy room in the loft is perfectly molded to my body (helps with the excellent sleeping). My pillow was so soft; I felt as if I was resting my glorious head on a cloud plucked especially for me from the heavens. From within my rated-x dreamland, the worst possible thing could have happened. Someone set off the fire alarm.

The annoying '_WAAAHHH WAAAHHH'_ of the alarm would not stop. I shut my eyes tight and put my pillow over my head, hoping for it all to stop. No such luck. It kept going, and going, and going. It was like the fucking Energizer bunny was up in there. I started humming 'Mary Had A Little Lamb' to myself to try and drown out the alarm

_WAAAHHH, WAAAHHH_ went the alarm. I started singing out loud to myself.

_Mary had a little lamb_

_That little lamb was dead_

_Mary took her lamb to school_

_Between to slices of bread_

My clever little ditty did not do justice. I sat up, half groggy from only having – get this – SIX hours of sleep. That was ludicrous.

Apparently, it was the perfect time for smoke to drift into my room and set the sprinkler off, soaking my beautiful hair. I take very good care of my hair. I do the whole 'lather, rinse, repeat' spiel with that shampoo that gives you orgasms in the shower. I blow-dry it nicely and spray it with some magical hair product to prevent frizzing. Guess what? One drop of water and my hard work is ruined.

I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed (cue sad, depressing music) and went into the kitchen. There, I saw Mark leaning over a frying pan, scraping off what appeared to be a blackened pancake. Knowing Mark for the majority of my life, I have learned one important thing: never trust him to cook.

Mark was muttering some inaudible phrase to himself while trying to chisel off the disastrous pancake. It was not working very well. He decided to use a plastic spatula. Uh oh. The spatula began to melt to the pan. I needed to intervene.

"Mark mmff mm happenmff?" I managed to get out. It was supposed to sound like 'Mark, what happened?' I guess that did not work to well. Fortunately for me, Mark understood that me stringing two comprehendible words together this early in the

Morning was a rare occurrence. He got the basic gist of what I was trying to say.

"Well," Mark began, a blush creeping onto his face, "I got kind of hungry and felt like making pancakes, totally forgetting all of the times I almost burned down buildings attempting to cook them. I'm cursed, man."

It was near impossible for me to form a response. I just scowled at Mark and hoped that he got the basic idea of how angry I was at him for ruining my peaceful slumber. Mark began to back away from me slowly, as if I was a dog with rabies.

"I think I will go out and try and get some breakfast. Uhh, bye!" he said, running as fast as his scrawny legs could go, out the door and off to somewhere where he wouldn't have to use his terrible cooking skills.

That was about the time I collapsed on the floor. I could not move. _Too early_, I thought. Mark should have known better. The nerve of him!

I attempted to fall back to sleep on the floor, since my legs refused to cooperate and walk me into my bedroom of happiness. It was not working to well. My head was not positioned at the right angle and my now frizzy hair was touching the filthy ground. The floor was pretty cold, also. I wanted my fluffy pillow and cozy blanket, damn it! I wiggled my (extremely toned) bottom, trying to move myself across the expanse of the living room. I managed to move approximately eight inches or so before I became too tired.

There was obviously no point in me going back to sleep. I would just have to deal with being in a semi-zombie like state for the rest of the day. I won't be able to do anything. Except sex. Maybe I can have some sex. I'll call Mimi later. She was probably still asleep LIKE A NORMAL PERSON.

My stomach made a loud, gurgling noise. Perfect, my body was in dire need for some food. I tried to get myself up – first bending one knee up and then the other. I grabbed onto the nearest object to help steady myself. _On the count of three_, I thought. _One. Two, Two and a half. Two and three quarters. Two and seven fifteenths. Two and ninety nine one hundreds_. THREE! I pulled myself up. I was a little bit dizzy from the sudden rise.

I shuffled my way to the refrigerator and opened it. There was a carton of old milk, and some unidentifiable sandwich, covered in mold. This was not going to work. I needed something very soon or I was going to feint from hunger. Maybe not, but still, I wanted food. Going out of the house was out of the question with my hair this frizzy.

I opened a dusty cabinet and poked my head in. SCORE! There was a box of Wheat Thins. I took out the box and examined it closely. It said that they were whole wheat Wheat Thins. What the fuck?! Wheat thins are not supposed to be whole wheat. The wheat part of their named was supposed to be a lie to get more people to purchase them. They were only yummy little crackers.

Oh well. I was desperate for something to eat. I stuck my hand in the already open box and pulled out a handful. I popped one of them into my mouth, quickly spitting it out.

The Wheat Thins were soggy, no lie. They were fucking soggy Wheat Thins. How did that happen? They were probably in that cabinet for an eternity. They were not exposed to the elements! My only hope – gone. I threw the box into the garbage. That was when things only got worse.

Out of the box popped a mouse. It was real, live mouse with beady little eyes and huge yellow teeth. You think living in New York City for so long I would have grown accustomed to seeing those small rodents of doom, but no. They were my biggest fear. Mice are disgusting. They carry the fucking plague. Now, I ate one of that little fucker's soggy Wheat Thins!

Eww, now I think I know why those Wheat Thins were soggy. Fucking gross, man! With a looked of disgust on my face, I hopped into the shower. I needed to get out of the house and get some food.

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Still to this day, I refuse to look at a box of Wheat Thins. I am always afraid that a mouse would pop out of it and attack me. Anyway, I think I need to catch up on my fourteen hours of sleep. 


End file.
